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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23902357">Night Like Darkest Pitch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/redribbonmagpie/pseuds/redribbonmagpie'>redribbonmagpie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(except enemies is. Misleading. Jons just grumpy), (though that might end up wrong lmao), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Gen, Jack the Ripper AU, Jon is a private investigator!, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery AU, Tim and Sasha are married and a Power Couple That Solves Crimes, Tim is a head detective of Scotland yard, btw Michael is My Michael so if you've read sdadmip you know the basics of my boy, everyone gets a partner!, jonmartin will be, martin is a jorunalist, michael and Jon are autistic, not much fluff in this one yall, together they are unlikely allies!, tw: semi graphic descriptions of corpses, victorian au, yep this is what I'm doing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:49:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>637</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23902357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/redribbonmagpie/pseuds/redribbonmagpie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>London is dark place, and when grizzly murders start occurring, an unlikely group of allies including a Scotland Yard detective, a private investigator, a journalist and a bunch of other characters have to work together before it's too late. Aka a TMA Ripper inspired fic!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(but it's slow burn obvs), Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Jonmartin - Relationship, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Night Like Darkest Pitch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Authors note: Though this story is inspired by the Ripper murders in London, 1888, the setting of this fic is by no means an accurate representation of the time period OR the case. For instance, the sexism, homophobia, and transphobia of the time period will be minimal. The nature of the murders will also be changed to better fit the story. Basically, this piece isn't accurate- it's just me catching onto that vibe because damn, it's cool.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nights in London were frigid and damp, and this night was no exception. The dimly lit streets were nearly empty by the time Michael Shelley came out of the telegraph office into the shockingly cold rain. He shivered and wrapped his greatcoat tighter around his frail form, using his free hand to pull out and put on his cap. His shift had been long, and he ached from the chill that set into his bones. He began to hurry down the street, wistfully imagining the warm hearth and food back at his flat where his roommate was likely already home. <br/>
Michael grimaced as the rain began to seep into his shoes, and broke into a run, holding his cap in place as he did so. In an effort to cut his walk short, he decided to duck through the alleyways. It wasn't the safest or most pleasant decision- they stank even more than the streets did, usually thick with grime and urine and probably a dead animal or two, and it wasn't uncommon to run into vagrants or prostitutes. But London didn't scare Michael, never had, and his current route would cut the time back by almost half. <br/>
Nothing seemed wrong when he started, weaving through the narrow brick paths. He started to smell something rotten after a while, though he didn't think much of it. Even the coppery smell that hung around in the air just made him think that the butcher had had a good day. <br/>
It wasn't until he saw the body half buried in a trash heap and the blood pooling on the surrounding cobbles that he realized something was very, very wrong. </p><p>---</p><p>Tim had almost drifted off at his desk when the door to his office opened. <br/>
He shot up in his chair and hastily ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth it, then looked blearily at the people who’d entered. It was a pair of his uniformed officers, looking appropriately sheepish at disturbing the head detective but also clearly overwhelmed by the third person. He was a tall but frail figure, though shorter than Tim himself, with wide bright blue eyes and a shock of strangely long blond hair that was tied back neatly and tucked under a battered cap. His hands, which were flapping in front of him, were slick with blood, and the red around his eyes made it clear that he’d been crying. Like cold water to a drunk man, Tim was shocked into alertness. <br/>
“Report,” He said sharply to the officers, and they obliged him. <br/>
“Reported a dead body in an alley behind Hunters Reach, sir. Name of Michael Shelley. Says he tried to revive them and tested for a pulse but found none. We have people going to the scene and to fetch the coroner immediately.”<br/>
“Damn Keay for taking off early tonight,” Tim muttered under his breath. Michael's eyes seemed to widen even more. <br/>
“-o-oh! Gerry! Gerry will know what to do. He can help. He’ll know.” <br/>
Tim raised an eyebrow. “You know Mr. Keay?” Michael blushed a little. <br/>
“Um, uh, yea. We’re roommates- we share a flat. I work at the telegraph office as a translator, though, nothing important like him. I- I was going home, actually, when I- when… when..”<br/>
His hands, which had momentary stilled, resumed their frantic flapping, sending a few specks of blood onto Tim’s desk. He winced. <br/>
“Mr. Shelley, please, come with me to the bathroom. You can wash up and I'm sure we can provide some… ah, cleaner clothes. Then we can talk. Does that sound good?”<br/>
Michael bit his lip, but nodded. As Tim stood up and led the still panicking man to the closest bathroom, he had the sinking feeling that this case was going to be more than he bargained for. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Super short beginning but I'm trying to pace myself while writing my other tma fic stop, drop, and drag me into place. Which, shameless self promotion, if you haven't checked out, why not? And if you're here from that, hello!<br/>Since this will end up with a bunch of characters, individual arcs for them will likely be pretty slow. Hoping to get the next chapter up soon!<br/>If you want to check me out on tumblr (@hoidingaroundthecosmere) or instagram (@redribbonmagpie) I usually post stuff relating to my fics on both. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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